


Dinner Party

by Mako_Octo



Series: Dream Job [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward..., Dinner Party, Dream Job, M/M, daniel birch - Freeform, michael dennis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mako_Octo/pseuds/Mako_Octo
Summary: Daniel brings Michael to an office dinner party. Michael is definitely the black sheep at this party and he feels it. Daniel may have noticed.





	Dinner Party

I shifted uncomfortably in Mr. B’s car. We were on our way to a company dinner party. According to the memo, this was for the executive staff. Mr. B insisted that because I was his personal employee - I think the exact word he used was “lackey” - I was invited as well. Not only that, he also maintained that he would be the one to drive us to the restaurant. I tried to tell him that I could easily meet him there and take the train, but he was adamant. 

“You wouldn’t be able to find the place.” He kept saying, as if I was stupid. I fiddled with my tie and jacket. They were a much more solemn than I was used to. When we were still at the office, Mr. B had asked me what I planned on wearing to the event. I looked down at my khakis and blue buttoned shirt.

“This.” I answered, gesturing to myself. Mr. B frowned and shook his head. He walked to his closet and fumbled through it. I heard the repeat sound of hangers clicking against each other. After a few moments, he had pulled out a coat cover on a hanger, making me question the old Boy Scouts’ motto of “always being prepared.” He walked up to me as he unzipped the cover. Before I could take it, he had pressed the hanger against my chest and paused, as if he actually had another suit in case this one didn’t work. 

Nodding, he glanced up to me. “It’s a formal event, wear this,” as he pressed it harder against me.

Now I was sitting in the passenger seat of my boss’ car, wearing a suit my boss gave me, on our way to a dinner party, whose invitation only had my boss’ name on it. I was essentially his date. Heat rose from my collar. I glanced sideways to Mr. Birch. Would others see this the same way?

“Are you comfortable?” Mr. B asked, snapping me out of my thought. Still nervous, I nodded. He looked at me harder. “You look a little hot, I can turn on the air.” My heart skipped for a moment, until my mind put his words into the correct context. 

“Um, that would be nice, thank you.” I gasped, trying desperately to calm my pulse. I looked over at Mr. B as he reached over to switch on his a/c. He had changed into a black suit and tie just before we left, in his office while I was in the bathroom getting dressed. I bit my bottom lip as my eyes traveled up his wrist, over his arm, and down his built torso. He looked so good in a suit, I’m surprised he didn’t wear them all the time.

After a while, Mr. B pulled in front of a huge edifice, with lights and people overflowing it. The building was multiple stories, with flowers lining every window. Valet men waited for us to pull up. People adored for an opera walked up and down the sidewalk. I looked at Mr. B, confused. 

“This looks like a hotel.” I said, trying to find a sign that told me what this place was. He unbuckled his seat and opened his door, smiling smugly.

“I told you, you wouldn’t have made it here alone.” He stepped out, buttoning his jacket as he moved. So fluid and eloquent, I couldn’t help but take notice. I shyly got out of the car, Mr. B was already standing by my door. The valet took the car and drove away. I half expected to see a velvet carpet leading inside. I felt a soft pressure on the middle of my back. I jumped, blushing as Mr. B leaned close.

“This way, we mustn’t be late.” He directed, pushing me forward gently. Following his lead, I approached the huge restaurant. There would never be a way that I could afford anything here. I sighed, I felt like such a burden being here, but Mr. B’s hand on my back urged me on.

Mr. B must had been here before. The private room reserved for our party was on the second floor, down a hallway. The other guests within the huge restaurant gawked at us as we passed. Mr. B merely nodded and smiled, paying them no mind above that. Either he was oblivious to how the two of us appeared with his hand on my back, or he was and didn’t care. I’m not sure which I would have preferred. 

When we entered the room of our dinner, quite a few men and women were already there. They stood and bowed when we entered, I nearly knocked myself out by how quickly I returned the respectful gesture. Mr. B moved his hand to my shoulder, noticeably higher than where it was before. Was this conscious? He then began to lead me around the large table, introducing me to all the other patrons.

“Hello Mr. Cho. This is my apprentice, Michael Dennis.” He said to the first guest. I passed a glance toward Mr. B. I wasn’t sure if he was revamping my position for my sake or his own. I couldn’t argue about it now, so I just bowed and shook their hands, trying to make Mr. B look as good as possible. Though as we circled the table, I was not blind to the whispers and stares I received.

Once the dinner had begun, it was like everyone had forgotten I came in with him. I sat next to Mr. B quietly while everyone spoke around me. He would occasionally lean toward me and ask if I was ok. I always nodded, but I felt like a third wheel the whole time. There was Mr. B and the other guests, then me. I just nodded along to the conversations around the table, and secretly watched the others on cues of when to laugh and emote. Many of the guests knew Mr. B and engaged in conversations with him throughout. It wouldn’t have even mattered if I was there or not. I began to order drinks before the first course was served.

A couple hours into the evening and I was roughly four or five beers in. I began to find the boring old executes’ stories funny and was laughing loudly. Mr. B placed his hand against the back of my neck and leaned close.

“Are you ok, Michael?” My senses were overwhelmed with a crisp scent of his cologne. In spite of my best intentions, I leaned closer and loudly sniffed the air.

“You smell niiice.” I loudly whispered, catching the attention of a couple guests. Mr. B chuckled and patted my back.

“I think it’s time we call this evening, don’t you?” He pulled me to my feet by my elbow, obviously not giving me a choice. I began to fight against him, but after another glance around the room and the eyes of the staring guests, I could tell they wanted me to leave. Defeated, I allowed myself to be led from the room. 

Through the restaurant, Mr. B had his arm under mine, practically carrying me out to the front. The valet was already there with the car waiting. Instead of being amazed by that, I was only more humiliated. I was sure that Mr. B would never want to bring me along to any company event again. 

Mr. B opened the door for me and eased me in. I wanted to curl into a ball in the seat, but knowing I may scratch the leather I didn't. I buckled my seat and stared at my lap, too ashamed to look over to Mr. B, who had entered the car and started to drive away.

“I-I’m sorry for my behavior.” I mumbled, pushing up my glasses on my nose. Mr. B laughed and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, making me look over to him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Those parties are always boring. You gave me a perfect excuse to leave.” He squeezed my shoulder again before returning his hand to the wheel. I watched him for a twitch, a glance, anything to show that he was upset with me. When I didn’t see anything, I spoke again, still too tipsy to think my words through.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think they wanted me there anyway.” Mr. B chuckled more, but didn’t comment, affirming that what I thought was true. This made me feel more like a load to carry. 

I must have fallen asleep in the car, because I woke to Mr. B gently shaking me. He was outside the passenger door, kneeling by me. I looked around and tried to focus on the building we were parked in front of. It was my apartment complex. I rolled my head toward Mr. B, who had unbuckled me and was wrapping one of my arms over his neck. My body felt heavy and my limbs were moving slower than my mind was trying to make them. 

The building was dark and quiet at this time of night. Mr. B led me to the elevator, my newest bag over his shoulder containing my keys, wallet, and original outfit. Once we got to my door, Mr. B balanced me against the wall as he pulled out my keys. Had I been more sober, I would have started freaking out about the state of my apartment which my employer was about to see. The haze of the alcohol quieted my mind and made me believe I didn’t care. 

He then led me to my couch, plopping me down on the cushioned seats. I figured he would leave once I was in the unit, but instead, he closed my door and sat in the love seat next to the couch. 

“Need anything?” He asked, placing a hand on my arm to get my attention. 

I was half awake as I looked over to him. I could have told him no, thanked him for the evening. I could have said nothing and let him leave. 

But nope, drunk Michael had other plans.

“You didn’t want me there either.” I exclaimed, as if our conversation in the car never ended. Mr. B stared at me, either confused, or hurt. In my stupor I couldn’t tell.

“What do you mean I didn’t want you there? I brought you there myself.” His voice had gotten higher, or it was just my imagination. I scoffed loudly.

“Y-you were telling everyone I-I was an ap-prentice! You were assshamed of me!” I leaned toward him, trying not to fall off my seat. Mr. B got quiet, but maintained his eye contact with me. He leaned his elbows on his knees and sighed. 

“I could never be ashamed of you. I was just hopeful that they would accept you more if I told them you were  _ training  _ under me, rather than  _ working  _ under me.” The alcohol in me kept up my fight.

“So you  _ didn’t  _ start treating me differently _ the moment _ we walked into the room?” I asked, taking all my effort to stare him down. The room around me began to spin. I leaned back on the couch, holding my forehead in my hand.

“You should sleep.” Mr. B said, standing up. He placed his palm on my shoulder, pushing me back to the couch when I tried to stand to show him out. “I know the way. G’night, Michael.” He assured. I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I just watched his shoes silently as he walked away.

Behind me, I heard my front door open. There was a pause, a long pause, before it shut again. I collapsed the rest of the way onto my couch. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I sighed, and kicked off my shoes. The last thought I had before sleep took me was Mr. B’s expression after my last question. If I hadn’t already been staring at him, I would have missed the flash of guilt that ran across his face.


End file.
